A love story in three parts.

Falling
The falling was the easiest part. And, really, it was more like sinking. It was like walking into the ocean’s arms until all that existed was salt water and the ache of breathless lungs. But what an exquisite ache.

The beginning is always easiest. There are no quarrels, no silences stretching into the darkness, no empty words or broken promises. There are passionate kisses in the rain, frenetic love making. There are soft kisses too, evenings spent cuddled together. There are cups of hot cocoa or lemonade.

If you had asked her the moment she fell in love, it would be when he breathed her name against the paper of her skin. The way he said it like a promise.

If you had asked him the moment he fell in love, it would be when she walked out of the bathroom wearing his shirt from the night before. He knew he wanted to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life.

Swimming
The middling is richer than the beginning. It has more depth and is full of sweetness. It is a settling; a melding. It is a slow blending of two into one.

She loved making love during these times more than in the beginning. Those were hurried, sometimes awkward. These were slow and delicious, full of the mutual feelings and shared passion.

He loved talking during these times. They had passed the superfluous “getting to know you” chatter and could get to the meat of shared interests and philosophical topics. They sat, entwined, talking for hours about everything.

Swimming along, they resurface from the falling, riding waves as they come. They take their time, enjoying the feelings without the breathless ache and rushing need. Swimming, they sometimes dive deeper than they ever have, touching milestones to guide them back to surface.

Drowning
The end is defined in the moments they can’t take back. These moments are sometimes clearly etched into memory and sometimes forgettable.

The end came without fanfare. There was no straw to break the camel’s back; no warning bells. They simply let go of each other’s hands in the dark, took one last lungful of air and dove too deep to resurface.

She said it had started ending the day they ran out of things to say. The flow of conversation, their never-ending dialogue, became a trickle and then a drip, until it finally stopped altogether. 

He said it was the day they made love and the distance between their fingers seemed to grow shadows and their bodies took up space outside of each other. Separating like lips for a kiss, but never following through. They had blossomed and, just as quickly, they had wilted. No hard feelings, just the memory of oceans.

Eating Disorder

One day you eat lemons, because the internet says
lemons help detox. And your thighs could use all the 
detoxing they can get.

The next day you eat cake because you think skinny
could never taste as wonderful as this slice of
ultra moist chocolate layered heaven.

You obsessively weigh yourself, counting down to the
ounce just how much your belly fat jiggles over your
jeans and how much that piece of cake cost you.

You eat nothing. You don't deserve it, you miserable
waste of human flesh and space. Even the air you breathe
is too calorie dense for you and you practice holding
your breath to make yourself look smaller.

Cake, lemons (no fear of scurvy here), air, measuring
tapes, work out videos, sweat and tears of frustration.
You just want to grab a little slice of happiness,
swallow the sun in bite sized pieces until you glow from
the inside out.

You drink nothing but water, you eat nothing but lemons,
wracking your body down by a pound. Need to run faster,
eat better, swallow the diet pills, measure your food
in eighths of a cup for one meal.

Then one day, the person you so obsessively abused,
forgets how to be and simply vanishes into your punished
body. There is nothing left of you, except you. And
you don't even love you.

Heart break

My heart beats slightly off-kilter now. It doesn't run anymore,
It jogs.
It jumps, pauses, sprints and then walks.

Up and down my staircase ribs, it stumbles, it slips.
It skips, it rattles, it creaks.

Remember when it did that the first time?
You and I had stayed up all night, talking, discovering.
You made me feel like the moon would never give way to the sun.
I thought you were a prince in disguise, fairy tale perfect.

I didn't know that a loving heart could trip into breaking.
I never expected it to feel like falling in love when we were falling out.

But looking at you,
thinking the things I do,
my heart pauses it's marathon, memorizing your face.

Tomorrow I'll wake up somewhere else, will you even miss me?

A Sexual Encounter from the Point of View of a Loveseat

-Twelve hundred dollars and a Pearl Necklace-
He kisses her into my arms; admires my gilt, cream and gold threaded, upholstery. He loves the contrast of her skin against mine. He says so as he slides his hand up her thigh and under her satin slip of a dress. He finds something just as satin and she lets out a gasp of pleasure.

-Venetian and Satin-
Her dress whispers to the floor, intimate as old lovers, and her hips kiss the cushions. Between deep kisses, he notes the plushness. He sighs, blissful, pushing into her and her into me. Her breath comes in short gasps, each one a love letter into my silks. She holds me, shaking.

-Love and Seating-
He cups the curve of her skull, bringing her face closer to his, sharing breaths. Her skin is a blushing umber rose, petals unfolded against cream and gold. She is ripe with need, skin caressing skin until they both begin to burn. When they release, they both cry out in animalistic joy, equally ravaged by waves after waves.

-In years to come, I am a lusty reminder-

Snowflakes in Black Hair

You are romantic; like snowflakes in black hair,
your smile askew, your hair rakish.
Your lips are roses, pressing themselves together,
parting like every movement is a kiss.

You are quiet; soft spoken like summer rain.
Yet, intense; passionate, provocative, polite.
Your eyes turn into oceans, I could fall hard into,
drowning in them, storm-tossed in softness.

The Skeleton Remains

The skeletal remains of your kisses
clink around my incisors, tickle the
ivory of my molars, tap dance across
my canines.

At night I can hear them, tinkling
like chandeliers in a breeze. I can
taste the bittersweet, hollowed, bones
of them curled against my tongue.

Their sugar melts into cavities of
emptiness, blackening my teeth with
the ash of them. They rub themselves
against my taste buds, reminders.

In the still of your long absence,
all of my teeth have rotted away, wasted
by the frame of your feelings for
me. Too sweetly  bitter to remain in me.

The ghosts of your kisses have replaced
the skeleton of your love. They howl,
but at least the clink of your chandeliers
against my teeth has ceased.

State of Rampant Regret & Superfluous Earthquaking Shivers

You unnerve me.
You make me question myself.
You make me feel like I'm on a roller coaster,
            careening into the Grand Canyon,
            about to fall off of the tracks.

I am over-analyzing your words;
actions, phrasing, tone.

Its not that I miss the 'us' that we were once,
its not that I miss your kiss,
its not that I want you back in my life.
            The hell am I doing?
            The fuck are you doing to me?

Now we are strangers.
And I over-think you.

I remember when you were all I dreamed about.
A vampire that I brought to stunning life,
a whisper in the shadows of my fucked up mind.
            I loved you, for some reason.
            Reasons I try not to remember, or can't remember.

La Douleur Exquise

I shouldn't let you break my heart.

Looking through old pictures, my heart always skips a beat.
It does a funny little flop in my chest,
like a fish out of water,
like a bird hitting a window,
like all those silly cliches we play with in school.

I shouldn't let myself feel this way about you.

What I tell my heart and what I feel are two different things.
It has always been this way,
I fall for you,
You let me fall,
I hit the ground with a sickening thud; bone crunch.

I shouldn't hold on to you, when its clear what you feel.

Have to laugh sometimes, or else I'd cry.
All I have are memories,
Long forgotten "I love you,"
Teenaged wishes,
A few glasses of gin and tonic in Seattle.

In the end, I'm a stupid girl for chasing dreams.

What a stupid heart, to keep longing for you like it does.
I should've let you go quietly,
drift into the memory landscape,
fade into distant dreaming,
instead you're lingering around the edges, a ghost without being dead.

I know what I should do, doesn't mean I can convince myself to do it.

Aren't you tired of me always falling for you?
Is there any way to break me of your habit?
If I keep breaking my heart on your skin,
If I keep drifting on your oceans,
If I keep dreaming of your lullaby heart beating?

Help me. Put me out of my misery.

Give me something to cut my teeth on.
Maybe if I taste your bittersweet, I'll let you go.
We both know I have no self-control.
I have no shame, except when I do.
I have no belief, except when I dream.
Fuck. Can't you remove yourself in a way that will heal?

Drowning Sun

The Sun drowned last night.

He followed the Moon through starlit passageways, black hair streaming behind her in waves.

She tripped over galaxies, swaying in the celestial ocean; waiting for the next starry tide to come in.

He waded out to stand beside her; their hands entwined like the constellations.

His lips grazed her still night hair, breathed in the newest scent of her and laughed.

She kissed the lemon slice of his mouth, drinking in the golden lips, a hand coming up to tangle in his wheat field hair.

The stars chattered, their diamond teeth clinking together like spoons in glasses; warning bells.

He lost his grip on her hand, slipping under a crescent wave, drifting out on primordial seas.

She lost him amongst the roiling blackness; holes swallowing the sound of her cries.

It was foolish to believe such moments were endless.

When all of heaven's din was hushed, they found him glowing beneath the mirror of the universe.

He had drowned in the tempest of her skies, lost in the voids of their eclipse.

The Sun drowned last night and the Moon has yet to stop weeping.

Lingering

You linger around the edges of my brain. I am forever chasing you down rabbit holes, around the sun and up mountains. Will you ever find me?

All of Her: Chapter One (Final Edit?)

Chapter One: Heartbroken
I know I said this wasn't running away, but I find myself running. I need to find Noah. Not 'want,' need. My feet are tattooing his name into the pavement. My heart is racing my lungs; a hideous lump is forming in my esophagus. My chest is heaving and my mind is in overdrive. I just keep thinking that if I could just get to Noah everything will be okay. He'll wake me up from this nightmare. He'll be able to to comfort me. Not that I am capable of being comforted.

I think my heart is going to explode. I am in physical pain so intense I may double over before I get to him. At the beginning curve of his apartment complex's entrance, I have to stop. I've been running for an hour and I can't breathe anymore. My shirt is soaked with sweat and sticking to my back. My hair is plastered to my face and neck.

And then, because this seems like the appropriate moment, the tears come. I stand there, on the corner, bawling like a crazy person, unable to see straight or breathe between gulping sobs.

Beyond all reason, Noah is walking his dog toward the park, which is just up the block from where I am standing. I don't even have voice enough to call out to him. As if he heard my thoughts, he looks up and sees me. He doesn't even pause; he starts running, barely waiting for Bett, his doberman, to catch up. I can't even limp to close the distance. I don't have to, however, because within a moment I am completely wrapped in his arms.

"Abra, honey, what's wrong?" he looks at me and holds me tighter. He murmurs into my hair, "Honey, please, you're scaring me. What happened?"

I can't respond. I can't catch my breath between sobs. I'm trembling violently; at any moment my body may fly to pieces. That lump building in my throat floods my mouth. Feebly, I manage to push away from Noah just enough to lean over and throw up. Reflexively, he pulls my hair back and moves to prevent Bett from eating it.

I keep heaving, despite my stomach being empty. I fear that, at any moment, I'll see my broken heart land in the puddle of vitriol at my sneakered feet. Noah holds my hair, muttering in a soothing way. I can't hear him over the pounding of my heart in my head.

After what feels like an eternity, I stop heaving. Straightening up, I take the first deep breath I've had since I started running. I look at Noah, concern etched into his black eyebrows and filling up his blue eyes with shadows. Absently, I notice that his glasses are smudged from where he was holding me.

"He's in love with her." I say, after several deep breaths.

"Who is in love with whom?"

"David and Alice." I choke out, my stomach tightening in warning. He doesn't say anything, just gathers me up in his arms and holds me. We stand there for a little bit, my face streaked with tears and Bett looking at us quizzically. Without knowing how it happened, we are walking back to his apartment. Once inside, I sit, cross-legged, on his 1970's style, burgundy, shag carpet. Bett rests her head in my lap and I stroke her ears, distractedly.

In the kitchen I can hear Noah making tea. This is how he deals with a crisis. Whether its a break-up, a bad grade in a test; it doesn't matter. Tea holds all the answers. He comes out of the kitchen, two steaming mugs of, what smells like, Earl Grey and a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips hanging from his teeth.

He sets one mug on a black and white coaster in front of me before he takes the bag of chocolate chips out of his mouth.

"I'm out of any other chocolate," he says, apologetically. "I've got some left overs if you are hungry. Though I'm sure your stomach is still a mess."

He pushes my tea closer to me. I take a sip, but am not really enjoying it like I normally would. I feel so out of sorts.

"Do you want to talk?" he asks, his voice cautious.

Do I want to talk about this? Can I? Do words have any meaning in a situation like this?

"He says he is in love with her. I've been tossed to the side. What more is there to say?"

Noah says nothing, simply placing his hand on mine.

No Parade
When I was twelve I met a boy. This boy was the most gorgeous, most intelligent, most wonderful boy I had ever met. It was obvious that I would fall for him. I was an awkward girl, not what anyone would consider pretty, at least in my own opinion. He was the first boy to say I was pretty. And I loved him.

Ten years passed, finding me sitting in the rectory of the church. I was about to marry the man of my dreams. A boy I loved since I was twelve. A boy I longed for with everything I had for so long I had nothing left to give. That beautiful, intelligent, wonderful boy leaves me waiting in the rectory. He leaves me waiting before the priest and God. He leaves me in my white dress and tiny white veil, my cream-colored roses and sprigs of baby's breath wilting.

He left because he had fallen in love with Alice. My childhood best friend. And, behind my back as I planned my wedding and my beautiful life with him, he planned a beautiful life with her. The most terrible of terrible things is I should've known, I should've seen it coming. How did I not notice how often they whispered to each other. Or how they sometimes gazed at one another? But I loved two beautiful stars in orbit around my sun.

I didn't know that I was the star orbiting their sunlight.

I am a fool.

I was humiliated. The church took pity on me and gave back the money I spent to have the ceremony there. The caterer was not so generous. I did get to keep all sixteen pounds of chicken and five pounds of cake. Isn't that sad though?

All of my calls were forwarded to voicemail. I must've left a dozen messages. They ranged in tone from completely calm to barely coherent sobs. Finally he agreed to meet me on the beach. How funny is it that its the spot where he proposed three years ago?

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, his hair disheveled from the wind. He looks so perfect. I love him. I hate him.

"I want you to say you love me and you're going to marry me. I can forgive all this. I can." I tried to sound even-keeled. To sound like this is all a misunderstanding and he has never once faltered.

"I can't do that." he said.

"Why?" I don't cry. I want to.

"I told you once that I loved Alice." he said. Cut to the quick, I glared at him.

"Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things, David. You never said you were in love with her."

"I was in love with her. I'm still in love with all of her."

That fateful sentence. Those jarring 25 letters.

As I ran to Noah's, I kept seeing his face; that face I have memorized longingly for the past ten years. I kept hearing him say those eight words, like some nightmarish lullaby.

He didn't even hesitate. Did he ever love me? Was I anything to him?

Nothing else matters
Noah clears his throat, jarring me out of my memories.

"What will you do now?" he asks. To be honest, I have no idea. Blow something up? Binge drink margaritas until I bust from alcohol poisoning? I should think a minute before I do something rash.

"Listen to a bunch of sad break-up songs and commiserate with a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream? I really don't know what else to do. I feel like I lost a limb. Something is missing."

He squeezes my hand in sympathy. I know he would fix it if he could. But we both know he can't fix this one. Not even with his dry wit, Earl Grey tea and all the ice cream in the world.

"Do you want to stay the night here?" He is searching my face for any sign that I'll fly off the handle and kill someone. Or myself. He doesn't need to worry, yet.

"No, love. Thank you. I think I'm going to go home. I want a shower and some alone time. Do you care to drive me back to my car?"

The short ride back to my car is quiet. The only sounds are air rushing through the rolled down windows and Bett's happy panting as she sticks her head out. Noah gives me one last hug, kisses my cheek and drives off. I stare at the blurred line of the horizon for what feels like eternity. Its dark, barely a sliver of moon in the sky.

I'm going to be alone, I realize. Perhaps I should've stayed with Noah. Before I can think about it too much I find myself driving back to my apartment.

When I get there, David has already been there getting some of his things. A note taped to the fridge says he'll be back to finish packing up. It says he's sorry, but he can't love me with only half of his heart.

I sigh, heavily. I am too tired to cry now. Kicking off my shoes, I trudge into the bedroom. Some of the drawers are still open and the place looks like a tornado went through. In his hurry, he has left a few t-shirts, boxers and two pairs of tennis shoes. I pad around the room picking up miscellaneous items he has tossed to the floor.

While doing this I spy the shirt he was wearing earlier. I can't help myself. I pick it up, press it to my face and find tears rolling down my already puffy face.

How can I live without him? How can I even begin to start over? I have devoted the past ten years of my life to this man. I've given him everything. My heart, my life, my virginity. How could it have all gone so wrong? I sink to the floor, still clutching his shirt to my tear soaked face. I don't care that my mascara is running and that I have snot dripping from my bright, red, nose. I don't care that he may come in and see me falling completely apart. I don't have the strength to lie to him about it.

Somehow I muster the strength to stand and put his dirty clothes in the washing machine. I go into the living room and turn on the CD player. Unfortunately, every song depresses me further. I go back to my room and stare at the queen sized bed. It seems so much bigger now that I'll be sleeping alone.

Part of me wishes David would walk in and see the mess I am. I'd tell him that I'll never be over him. I could never possibly get over him, no matter how hard I tried. I refuse to be happy for him either. Not for him and most certainly not for Alice. Even if they are happy together.

I spend my night on the couch, trying to find some semblance of sanity to cling to. I try pulling myself together. And I fail at it; miserably. I don't really sleep. I drift, but I do not dream. I just sit with my knees pulled up to my chest, my cheek resting on one knee.

Things have to get better eventually. Right?

If you love me

If you love me
it is the same as loving fire.

At some point
you will be
burned.

Not because I want to burn you,
   but that is the nature of fire;
to burn.

I can be calm,
unassuming,
like the flicker of a campfire
or
a candle's flame.

But there will be times
where I rage;
  out of control,
  full of anguish,
  of wrath.

It is in my nature
  to burn quietly
or
  rage out of control.

Would you ask the ocean to
stop kissing the shore?
Would you ask the winds to
never whip the trees?

As romantic as it may seem to be in love
with the flame,
you must know,
that someday it will burn you.

Some day it is going to sweep through,
destroying everything in its wake.

And I will try to hold it back.
I will try to never let you see,
but there is a trail of
ashes.

And I am what I am.

Words

   hurt     wasting    hate     breathless
   heart    time       kiss     screaming
   pain     wishing    embrace  dreamed
   longing  stars      crying   lost
waiting   friend   resolve    alone
hoping    love     never      forgotten.

Would you want me to?

I won't cry.
I keep saying I'll stop.
Maybe I scare you.
Maybe I'm too much.

I blame myself.
Its always my fault...
when I am left.
How foolish to think you'd be different.

They all leave in the end.
Its inevitable.
And I'm always the dust,
settling into the cracks.

I'm different. I admit that.
Was my difference the final
nail?
I won't apologize for that.

I can't help that I love
too passionately. That I'm
crazy. That I long for stars
too far from the earth of my body.

Was it my love that sent
you running? Was it the Cheshire
Cat of my personality?
I can't apologize for who I am.

Would you want me to?

The Things We Claim

Flowers in your beard,
your arms around me,
the way you looked when
you fucked me...

Those are the memories I own.

The taste of your smile,
like a slice of the sun,
dimpled perfection...

Those are the things I miss most.

Tears and burnt love letters,
the snarl of your anger,
spitting venom...

Those are the things I remember.

New York

Standing on the subway train,
wondering what your name could be.
Looking out at the darkness,
barreling through time and space,
daydreaming sunshine into the moonlight.

Is it David? Jon? Sebastian?
I'm trying to guess from your features;
eyes the color of a root beer float,
lips like Cupid's bow and a darting
tongue like an arrow through my heart.

In my mind I imagine the curl of your
lips tasting mine. You taste like the
color of your eyes and I get high off
your sugared breath. Could you imagine
my arms circling your neck like a necklace?

Is it James? Perry? Geoff?
The train is pulling into the station, you
stand to go and you push the ribbons
of your hair out of your eyes. You step
out into the world and the only name you have...

Is it New York?

Love Poem to a Cannibal

Blend me with all of
your raw fruit.

Shake me together with
your tossed salads.

Mix me into all of you
until I am dissolved.

Add a pinch of salt,
a sprinkle of sugar.

I was never flavorful
on my own.

Bake me at 375° until I
am done to your satisfaction.

I hope I am delicious.

Bathing Beauty

Quiet thoughts seem to whisper,

Your love letters never linger;

who am I to you?

Bathe me in kisses soft,

let my heart never break.

I am Woman, Phenomenally.

Maybe I'm just a little girl in a big world full of monsters.
Maybe I can't stop even a fraction of them.

But in the end, I'm standing there brandishing my sword,
screaming the battle cry that is pounding in my blood.

I have big dreams; a big voice inside my head calling me
to something greater than all this.

The monsters may come. Let them. I may die,
but I'll die fighting. No one can say I didn't try my hardest.

Isn't that what courage is? Running towards the monster,
rather than away from it?

Maybe I'm a speck in the endless seas of humanity,
drifting in and out on a tide of relentless insanity.

A ragdoll, tossed into the fray of the screaming waves.
Another pair of breasts in the wriggling masses.

But I was born to be Joan of Arc; the heart of a lioness,
consort to scarecrow princes and ready for battle.

Let the Jabberwockys come, let them do their worst.
I am still standing, a giantess with my soul painfully alive.

There is more to me, a little girl in a big world,
than could ever be imagined by the seething oceans.

In the words of Maya Angelou, "Phenomenal woman, that's me."

Shock

He kissed her; quick as lightning and just as shocking.
She looked at him, breathless.
He kissed her again, taking his time.
When she kissed him back, he pressed against her to share the shock.